The More You Know
by Sapsorrow86
Summary: Set during the Season Finale. Emma blurts out one too many truths while in the Dark Castle. In her defence she's wearing underwear that's more akin to a torture device and Mr Gold it's too scaly for her to keep her cool. (Spoilers for the Season Finale. Rated PG-13 for mention of suggestive themes).


Mr Gold was... a sparkly disco lizard. Emma struggled to come up with another description to best sum up... whatever he was but her mind refused to cooperate, stubbornly clinging to her original impression. She desperately attempted not to stare as he pranced around his castle, talking about magic and giggling like a creepy toddler from a horror movie. She tried hard not to stare at his blackened nails, yellowed teeth or, God forbid it, tight leather pants, wanting to appear totally at ease with the situation.

But, seriously, did Belle pour him into those pants every fucking morning?

They were waiting for the right moment to approach Snow and, though neither Hook nor her had been the least bit enthusiastic about it, they had agreed that it was best they stay put till they were ready to approach Snow, lest they change something else by mistake. Emma made sure to always put herself between the Dark One and the pirate, afraid of a possible confrontation. Or, really, just Gold turning Hook into something slimy.

Well, _slimier_.

The more she studied him the easier became to read him in spite of the scaly appearance and the guarded attitude. Rumplestiltskin was, surprisingly, easier to read as an overgrown invertebrate. Everything he did was more grandiose than back in Storybrooke and her time getting to know him meant she had picked up on certain tells, though he usually was too subdued for her to properly gauge him. Here he seemed... freer. It was probably due to the fact that she was from his future and would soon return to it. He had also made it clear that, since he knew too much, he would be drinking a potion to forget, lest he jeopardize his chance of finding his son.

Talking about Neal was painful. Even knowing he would forget Gold, mercifully, asked little about him, content for the moment with knowing he found him again, and that when he did he was healthy and safe. Emma had phrased things so that she could tell the truth without revealing Neal's sacrifice and death, sure his dad wouldn't be so cooperative if he found out. Or worse, he'd look to change it.

She thought she was in the clear for a while till he got a curious look in his face again, one that always seemed to spell trouble for her, weather in Storybrooke or the Enchanted Forest, apparently. He got strangely coy, comically pretending he wasn't really interested in asking her something yet he circled her like some puzzled shark and it was getting on her nerves.

Finally, when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, he spoke.

"So... You know Belle."

False nonchalance seemed to ooze out of every word, Gold quickly diverting his attention to a collection of fairy wands, as if to make it abundantly clear he was merely making small talk and wasn't at all interested in her response.

"Too well."

Emma shuddered, remembering the many times in which she, and other Storybrooke residents, had caught kind, bookish Belle half naked beneath the Dark One... or on top. They seemed to be equal-opportunity sexual partners, which she supposed was nice.

Gold- Rumplestiltskin, she tried to remind herself- narrowed his eyes at her unhelpful reply, turning to look at her out of the corner of his eye.

"She's... with me? We are together, that's what you're saying?"

She nodded, smiling tightly and dimly wondering when her life had become... this. Far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells... and a "prince" who looked like a gecko. She wanted out. Desperately. Go back to the safety of New York, where she had been so happy in a mundane life with Henry and no magic, no deaths and no... weirdness.

"And you say we are... in love? In that present of yours, I mean."

He made sure to make it sound like he was mocking her, having a laugh at her expense, but Emma wasn't fooled. She'd seen the nervous energy he'd displayed around maid!Belle- and, taking into account that plunging neckline, she couldn't exactly blame him- and could connect the dots and see the massive crush he was harbouring for her. Belle, judging by the glimpse she'd caught of the brunette, also seemed to be heading in that direction if the flirty banter and the coquettish looks were anything to go by.

"Uncomfortably so. Seriously, what's your problem with keeping it in your pants?"

She hadn't meant to say that, honestly. She'd been so good at keeping her anger about the constant complaints Gold got for public indecency since the curse had broken to herself, about refraining from getting into a confrontation with Gold regarding his continuous and unwelcomed forays into the world of Class E misdemeanours. She hadn't even realized it bothered her so much, fending off call after call at all times about loud moans, pants pulled down in public places and... fingers...

She did not want to even finish that thought. But now that she was talking, it felt impossible to stop. While Jones and Rumplestiltskin the Sparkly Disco Lizard looked at her, jaws slack and eyes wide, as she did some much-needed purging.

"God, you two go at it like rabbits. At all hours of the day, seven days a week! Take a break every once in a while, for crying out loud, how many times can you go down on someone before your tongue falls off?"

Hook looked like he was about to embed his hook on his forehead and end it all there and then but opted for option number two, high-tailing it out of the room with an excuse to go look for the rum. Meanwhile Emma Swan was on a roll. Every single thing she'd ever wanted to say to Gold about his peculiar relationship with the sweet little librarian seemed to be pouring out of her.

"I thought it was sweet at first, the hand-holding, the pecks on the cheek, the flirty smiles. That's what fairy tales are supposed to be, right? Even for... people like you. Happy endings and whatnot. And then it turns out that indeed Belle and you are happy ending all over the damn place, and those flirty smiles are just a cover for some kinky, definitely non-storybook stuff."

The golden man in front of her made a noise akin to a balloon deflating or a kitten whining.

"K-Kinks?"

She nodded vigorously, wondering why her mind couldn't have picked another topic to distract herself from the memories of Neal. This was clearly her mind trying to deflect and doing a poor job of it.

"Sweet little Belle, from what I've gathered very unwillingly, is into bondage. Tying you up, mind you."

_"You lie."_

"I wish! You know the times I've walked in on you handcuffed to something? Pantless?! Why would I ever lie about that?! Or about the fact that you enjoy licking honey off Belle's body so much there's never any at the local market after you go shopping!"

She was pacing now, acutely aware of Gold's sputtering attempts at speech while his eyes acquired a glazed, dreamy look mixed with a healthy dose of incredulity. She knew something else was behind this rant- she was not that obsessed about Gold's sex life, she was sure of it- but whatever it was it seemed to spur her on and on.

"I thought she was faking it at first, she screamed so much it was impossible for it to be for real. God, I wish that was true. Apparently bookworm little Belle, who is supposed to dance with candlesticks and talk to little cups, is also an card-carrying member of the multiple orgasms club. You try holding onto your childhood notions when Beauty lets slip her nape gets so sensitive while engaged in foreplay that she can come from you scraping your teeth against the skin there? Do you have any idea the amount of alcohol it took for me to sleep that night?"

In her head she was already deciphering the real problem behind her tirade. This was about magic, her parents, Storybrooke and New York. About her old life, her fake life, and her real one, one she didn't think she wanted anymore. Too strange, too painful, too complicated. Always someone in mortal danger, curses, fairy-tale characters and fucking magic fucking happening. Not her life, she kept repeating to herself, not her life.

Her mind, however, had chosen quite a creative outlet for all the pent up anger and confusion inside. Gold, a few feet away from her, seemed in the beginning stages of a massive coronary, stiff as a board, jaw barely missing the floor and golden eyes wide as saucers.

"You're lying. Why are you lying? She couldn't possibly, I mean..."

Hurt laced Gold's words, and though he wanted to project anger all Emma saw was pain. A man who looked like that and who was as rotten inside as she knew him to be must have a very complicated relationship with love. Specially love from beautiful, good women who seem honest and true and too far out of his reach.

"Look, man, it's true love. You're gonna forget this so I might as well tell you. You screw up plenty, mind you, but in the end you seem to work it out. It's kind of cute, once you get past the nudity."

"I don't believe you."

He attempted to sound petulant and dismissive, downplaying the situation and turning his back to her, but she knew better. She had gotten to know him well enough, much to her chagrin.

"Suit yourself. Just know you're in for a world of pain but, from what I gather, you're really into it as long and it's Belle inflicting it."

His lips curled up in a sneer, a scathing reply dying on his lips when they heard a crash and then Belle's accented voice shouting "I told you not to touch that!" Seconds later they appeared in the throne room, where Belle was securing a scythe back in its rack. Hook beside her was looking rather sheepish in a way Emma was sure was meant to be charming and compel people to forgive whatever idiocy he'd done.

"I'm sorry, Rumplestiltskin, I told him not to touch the scythe, that it was cursed. Fortunately I managed to put it back like you showed me before anyone lost their head. No problem."

She smiled, more than likely attempting to minimize the situation so the pirate would be able to keep that one hand he still had. Emma, recognizing a dangerous situation when she knew one, remarked loudly that it was high time they went to intercept Snow White. Stressing how the future depended on it she got the imp to safely transport them away, glad to have Jones as far away from his little maid as possible. He watched her set the room to rights, picking up stuff the pirate must have knocked over while fighting with the cursed scythe, and willed his mind to stop thinking about what the saviour- Emma- had told him. Surely it was all a ruse, an attempt to garner his favour with promises of future carnal delights. After all Belle was very beautiful, it would be easy to come to the conclusion that he, as a red-blooded male, desired her. The lie had been easy to spin from there.

"Did... did the scythe get you, dearie? Are you... in working condition? Can't have the maid slacking off because a silly cut got infected or something equally as trivial."

Belle raised an eyebrow, her entire demeanour screaming that she didn't believe his unconcerned attitude, but patiently pointed out every single cut all the same, letting him magic the hurt away with the sift pads of his fingers and a lick of magic. Finally she re-tied her hair, wincing as the motion caused her to feel a sting on the back of her neck. A quick swipe of her fingers revealed a smear of blood.

"You missed one."

She presented her back to him, sweeping her hair to a side and lowering her shoulders so he had easy access to her neck. Rumplestiltskin couldn't recall the last time someone had felt so safe and comfortable in his presence to put themselves in such a vulnerable position without giving it another thought. He noticed she had a long, elegant neck, her pale skin sporting the lightest bit of blush. She was exquisite, truly, soft, lush and lovely. And innocent, he could smell it in her. A pure soul.

Really, that Saviour was talking nonsense. The again, he'd met her parents.

"Let me see. Be still, little maid."

He softly ran the pad of his thumb along the cut, the rest of his hand rest gently against her nape. It was impossible for him to miss the feel of her shivering beneath his touch. Goosebumps rose on her skin and she made a strangled sound of... something, in the back of her throat.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, sorry, I'm just a bit sensitive back there."

He backed away quickly, rubbing his fingers together to dispel her warmth from his skin.

"I need to go, ah, brew a forgetful potion. The strong kind. You... you go back to dusting, dearie. Can't work in a dirty castle, now can I?"

He pivoted out of the room as far as his leather-clad legs could take him, willing himself to set aside visions of Belle's skin covered by a thin, golden sheen of honey. He needed his wits about him if he was ever to brew anything halfway decent and right now forgetting was of the utmost importance.


End file.
